Page 13 of That One Night (The Heartbreak Brothers Next Generation #4)

Chapter

Ten

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” She could barely breathe as the high-pitched wail escaped her lips. “Ow ow ow.” It felt like the needle was hitting bare bone. Or a nerve.

She wasn’t sure who looked more amused at her screaming – Hendrix or Jack. All she knew was that she was never doing this again. That needle hurt worse than breaking her wrist when she was eight.

“Want me to stop?” Jack asked her.

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. “Keep going.” Then she glared at Hendrix who was trying not to smile. “And you can shut up. This is all your fault.”

That just made him smile even more.

It took almost an hour for Jack to finish coloring in the tiny firefly they’d agreed on.

And yes, he’d warned her that it would be painful, because the skin on her ankle was thin and close to the bone.

But she’d managed to keep the screams to whimpers, and she’d grabbed hold of Hendrix’s hand tight, squeezing it hard enough for him to lift a brow.

She wasn’t sure which of them was the most relieved once Jack had finished adding the ointment to her skin and covered up the tattoo, giving her a leaflet about caring for the freshly inked skin.

“By the way, I was wondering, does Hendrix have a tattoo?” she asked Jack as she slid the care instructions into her purse.

From the corner of her eye she saw Hendrix smile at her question. Because no, she didn’t believe he had a whale on his dick. But she also wanted to know if he did have one somewhere.

“Don’t tell her,” Hendrix said.

“I’m afraid I have to keep strict customer confidentiality,” Jack said, looking from her to Hendrix, an amused tone to his voice. “I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”

“I’m gonna find out,” she warned Hendrix.

He lifted a brow, not looking afraid at all. “I have no doubt of that.”

Traffic was busier on their way back to the farm, mostly because it was almost rush hour. Hendrix played rock music again, that cap back on his head, and she felt that familiar flush on her body as she looked at him while he concentrated on the road.

“You want me to drop you off outside your house?” he asked her.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll walk home from yours. It’s not exactly far.”

“I can drop you off at the end of the lane if you want,” he told her. “If you’d rather your mom didn’t see you walking home from my house.”

She opened her mouth to say maybe that was a good idea, but then closed her lips. Why the hell should she be embarrassed if her mom saw her walking back from his place? They were friends. There was nothing wrong with that. She was allowed to talk to people, dammit.

“Nah, it’s all good. Once she sees the tattoo she’ll forget all about that, anyway.”

“You’re not going to keep it covered up when it’s healed?”

“Nope.” She shrugged. “It’s pretty. And I went through a lot of pain for this. There’s no point in going through all that if you’re going to hide it.”

“It is pretty,” he murmured.

Her skin tingled at the way he said it. She wondered what it would be like if he told her she was pretty?

Truth was, she’d probably melt. “Thank you,” she murmured as the truck rumbled over the muddy tracks to his farm. The earth had dried hard, and the movement made her bounce up and down.

His gaze dropped to her chest, to the way her breasts moved with her body, then quickly moved it back to her face.

A loud bray from Frank greeted them when Hendrix opened her door and helped her climb down from the truck. She walked over to the goat, stroking his jaw.

“Is it of a goat?” she shouted to Hendrix.

“What?”

“Your tattoo?” she said. “Is it a goat?”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Hendrix, you just watched me scream like a baby for an hour. The least you can do is let me see your tattoo.”

“You want to see it?” he stepped closer, and her hand stilled on Frank’s face. The goat looked peeved at her attention being interrupted.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did. You said exactly that.” His eyes were dark as his hands curled around his belt buckle, slowly undoing it.

“Hendrix!”

He started to laugh. “Damn, you’re easy to scare. No, you’re not seeing it. A man likes to have a hint of mystery. And anyway, I’m saving it for Only Farms , remember?”

“You’re an ass. And you don’t have a tattoo.”

“If that’s what you want to believe, go with it.” He reached down to tuck a curl of her hair behind her ear. His fingers felt hot against her neck, sending a shot of pleasure through her body.

“I hate you.” Her breath caught in her throat.

“Good.” He smirked. “You’re gonna hate me even more when that tattoo hurts like hell in the middle of the night.”

She looked down at the tattoo, all wrapped up to keep it clean. “If it hurts, I’m coming over here and banging your door down.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but then he looked over her shoulder. “Your mom’s watching.” He took a step back, like he knew it looked bad for them being this close.

Emery looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, her mom was on the porch, pretending to plump the cushions on the swing.

“I should go,” she said reluctantly.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Thanks for keeping me company this afternoon.”

“Thanks for listening to me scream.”

The way his eyes narrowed made her realize exactly how bad that sounded.

But then he winked and gave her a grin. “Go home, firefly.”

“I’m leaving.” She smiled back at him, because he could have made it so much more embarrassing. And just as she turned on her heel she muttered, “Goat dick.”

“I’m not gonna lie,” Maisie said, a grin all over her face as she talked to Emery on a video call. “This guy sounds like perfect number seven material. Either the original or amended version.” She wrinkled her nose. “Though I like the original the best.”

“He thinks I’m engaged,” Emery pointed out. “So that’s not gonna happen.”

It had been a week since their trip to the tattoo parlor.

Apart from a couple of meetings in the lane – where Hendrix had asked her about her tattoo and whether it was healing – she’d barely seen him.

And yeah, she’d thought about going over and drinking all the beer in his fridge again, but her mom had been a lot more present the last few days.

She’d notice if Emery went over there and she wasn’t ready for that drama with her mom.

Instead, she’d settled for swigging at the whiskey bottle under her bed and thinking about how he made her breathless. There was something about the way he looked at her that made everything in her body tighten up, including her ribcage, making it difficult to inhale.

“So tell him,” Maisie said. “It’s not like you owe your asshole ex anything. Call the agreement off. You’re a free woman. That gorgeous hunk of a cowboy is a free man.”

“He’s not a cowboy, he’s a farmer,” Emery told her.

“Ah, same thing.” Maisie wrinkled her nose.

She was sitting in her Airbnb in Barcelona.

She’d found the perfect rental, including a great Wi-Fi connection that meant she could video call instead of just audio.

She’d already given Emery the tour, and it looked beautiful.

The apartment was built in the last century but had been updated, so along with the tall ceilings, floor-length windows, and beautiful parquet flooring, it had a modern kitchen, great internet connection, and air conditioning – which Maisie had raved about.

It had been a last-minute cancellation, which meant her friend had picked it up for a steal. And she was so clearly loving every minute.

“It doesn’t matter whether he’s a cowboy or a farmer, it still can’t happen.”

“You need to stop thinking about everybody else and think about yourself. Just go for it. What’s stopping you? You haven’t heard from Trenton, have you?”

“No. He’s too busy working on that real estate project in Charleston.

” Thank god that above all things Trenton was a workaholic.

The thought of that lien on the farm was still making her feel nauseous, though.

She hadn’t told Maisie about it. Mostly because she knew her friend would be outraged. And she couldn’t cope with that.

Maisie didn’t know Trenton like Emery did. He’d make her mom’s life a living hell if she didn’t keep this going until the end of the summer. After that, well, then she’d be free.

It wasn’t too long away. And she’d always been a patient woman. Once she’d gotten her mom moved into a new place, then she could concentrate on her own life.

“At least tell me you’ve ticked another item off the list,” Maisie said, scooping a forkful of salad into her mouth.

It was almost two o’clock in Spain, seven in Hartson’s Creek.

Emery’s mom was watching a rerun of Law and Order: SVU , and Emery had closed up the chicken coop for the evening and was sitting in her bedroom, cross-legged on her childhood bed.

“It’s only been a week since I ticked off the last one,” Emery pointed out. “The tattoo has hardly stopped itching. I don’t think I’m ready for more pain.”

“It’s been a month since you got home. You’re not even fifty percent of the way there,” Maisie pointed out. “I knew we should have agreed to a penalty if you didn’t do them all.”

“The list is the penalty,” Emery pointed out. “I don’t think you could give me anything worse if you tried.”

Maisie grinned. “I bet I could. I tell you what, if you don’t do another one this week, I’m changing number seven back to the original.”

“That’s not fair.” Emery’s chest tightened. “I’m doing my best.”

“I know. But this is for your own good. So that’s it. Either tick another one off the list before I call you next, or seven is back to doing the dirty with a guy.”

“I’m really good at avoiding calls,” Emery pointed out. Her friend knew her way too well. She’d done the easy things. Heck, even the tattoo seemed easy compared to the other items. She didn’t want to ride on the back of a motorcycle, dance on a bar, or find somebody to stay up talking to.

And she definitely didn’t want to kiss a random man.

Okay, she did. But she couldn’t. And she was almost certain he wouldn’t want to kiss her back.

“I’ll track you down one way or another,” Maisie promised. And Emery knew it was true.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’ll try. But you’re not changing number seven back.”

“How’s the tattoo?” Hendrix called out to her from the middle of the dirt road a couple of days later. It was early evening. Her mom had gone into town to meet up with a friend for dinner, and Jed and the farmhands had gone home, leaving her blissfully alone for the first time in days.

She’d checked on the chickens and poured herself a glass of iced tea, and was sitting on the deck while she went through her emails. There was one from the realtor, suggesting he come over next week to value the farm, pending putting it on sale when the lien was released.

Though she hadn’t given him the details, she’d hinted that it should all be sorted within a month. That is if Trenton held up to his side of the deal.

Hendrix was sitting on his motorcycle, having just ridden back from his day job at his uncle’s farm. His jeans and t-shirt were covered in a coating of dry earth.

“It’s still a bit itchy,” she shouted, lifting her leg to show him her fresh tattoo. He kicked the stand on his bike and walked over to the fence that separated her mom’s farm from the road, leaning on it.

“Let me look at it.”

She felt that familiar pull, the one she was trying really hard to pretend didn’t exist. But she stood up anyway, walking to where he was standing. “You can come in,” she told him. “My mom isn’t here.”

“Didn’t she teach you not to invite strangers in?” he asked her, grinning. But he still walked over to the gate and unlatched it, striding to where she was standing.

“Hard day?” she asked.

“Had a couple of sheep escape. Spent most of it riding around the farm looking for them.”

“Has Frank been talking to them?” She grinned.

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” He tipped his head to the side, his gaze sliding down to her ankle, where the firefly was etched into her skin. “You been putting the ointment on it?”

“Yes, Dad.”

He laughed softly. “Let me look at it,” he murmured, as he dropped to his haunches. She looked down at the top of his head, curling her hands because she had this desire to drag her fingers against his scalp.

“Can I touch it?” he asked her, looking up through eyelashes so thick any woman would kill to have them.

“Sure.” She nodded, trying to keep her voice even.

But then his rough finger pads grazed her skin, and dammit, she started to wobble.

“Steady,” he said softly, like she was an animal reacting to his touch. He slid his hands down her calves, reaching her ankle, tipping his head to the side like he was assessing every inch of her.

Thank God she’d shaved her legs this morning.

“The redness has gone.” His voice was still gentle. She liked it way too much. “There’s some flaking. The scab is peeling off. That’s what’s making it itchy.” He looked up at her again. “Have you been scratching it?”

“Been trying not to.”

“Good girl.”

She hated the way she reacted to that. Her body felt heavy and light at the same time.

He slid his hands back up her legs, his lips parted. His fingers lingered on her calves, and for a second there was complete silence.

“Can I ride your motorcycle?” she blurted out.

He blinked. “What?”

“The list. My friend’s list. I need to tick another one off.” Before she changes number seven and I’m hitting on you like a cat in heat. “I need to ride on the back of a bike.”

“The back?” he frowned. “Why not the front? Isn’t the list meant to be about empowerment?”

She hadn’t told him that. And yet he’d realized it. The thought made feel dizzy.

“It is,” she told him, aware that he was still touching her legs. “But I can’t operate a motorcycle, so I guess this is second best.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“Huh?” She was way too distracted by the way he brushed his fingers further up her legs. It wasn’t obvious that he realized he was caressing her. But every cell in her body was aware.

“I’ll teach you how to ride.”

“Now?”

He shrugged. “Now’s as good a time as any.” He glanced over at the swing where she’d been sitting. “Unless you have better things to do.”

“No.” She said it so quickly it made him smile.

“Good.” He inclined his head at his cottage. “I’m gonna head in for a shower. Meet me at my place in ten.”

Her throat felt dry as he stood and started walking away.

“And Emery?”

“Yes?”

“Put some pants on. And a sweater with sleeves.”

“For protection?” she asked.

He smirked. “Exactly. We wouldn’t want your pretty body getting scratched.”